Forever Young
by PreciousJax
Summary: *Chapter 10 Added* The past and present merge together for Maddy as she debates her will to move on.
1. Chapter One

Disclaimer-Yes! I own them all! I'm getting paid lots and lots and lots of money to write this fic! Sue me!  
  
Disclaimer 2- Jaci ate a mysterious looking mushroom at lunch today.  
  
Authors Note - Its my first attempt at writing in the first person, and my beta says it turned out good. Her comments were I surpassed what she expected, and so unless she expected total horse shit I think this turned out okay. I have realized that the only story I have writen (minus Crash and Burn because I never finished that) that I havent written a sequel to is The Ressurected. I need to learn to leave these fics alone. I can't just let them rest in peace. (A-hehehe. Oh-a-heehehehehe.) Okay, i want lots and lots of reviews, god damn it! Okay now, on with the fic....  
  
Thanks to Karen of all the help with the story last night, putting up with all my griping and such. Wait! You were a bitch to me! Screw you!  
  
  
  
Forever Young  
  
"I stand amid the roar  
  
Of a surf-tormented shore,  
  
And I hold within my hand  
  
Grains of golden sand-  
  
How few! yet how they creep  
  
Through my fingers to the deep,  
  
While I weep-while I weep.  
  
O God! can I not grasp  
  
Them with a tighter clasp?  
  
O God! can I not save  
  
One from the pitiless wave?"  
  
~Edgar Alan Poe  
  
  
  
Chapter One:  
  
Early mornings, that time between light and darkness where the pearly light spills through my bedroom window, that is the time I like best. I never sleep, unless I really want to, and I rarely do. I guess I got that from my mom. They don't like it when I wander around at night, especially Dad; he doesn't like being reminded that I am what I ever so kindly refer to as a Manticore half breed. He likes to think that I am just an average seventeen- year-old girl, so I humor him and pretend to be normal. They think I don't know why they don't let me play sports, why they don't let me take the class trips out of Seattle, why they don't let me visit my aunts and uncles. But I know why Mom always looks over her shoulder, and I know why she paces the floor at night when she is particularly worried that her past is going to catch up with her.  
  
It makes me sad to think about such things, but sometimes the darkness just creeps up on you, like now, at four AM when I don't have anything to keep busy with.  
  
The Mozart concerto I have on my walk-man would lull most teenagers to sleep, but its just comforts me in those eight hours of endless time that I have every night. I have to keep it on low, because Mom might hear, even though I am wearing headphones. "Madelyn Elizabeth," She would say in a stern voice, though I knew she felt my pain on this matter. "Why aren't you asleep. How are you going do well in school if you are to busy listening to your music and writing in that journal of yours when you should be sleeping."  
  
I guess you could say I am lucky. I'm spoiled, and I'm the first to admit it. Dad can't say no to anything, and that is why I have a brand new Jeep Grand Cherokee (Luxury edition of course) in the garage under Fogle Towers parked next to his SUV. A present for my sixteenth birthday, and it only took a week of subtle hints to get it through to him. I always have wondered if he gives me everything I want to make up for those four years that he didn't know about me. Mom was always very honest about that, how she ran away after she found out she was pregnant with me. Its not like he has to be guilty or anything, I have to think really hard to remember a time when he wasn't in my life. But if he thinks he has something to make up for, and it gets me a new car, then its not like I'm going to fight him on it.  
  
Very few people have cars anymore, sometimes the kids who's family's can afford private school tuition cant afford to keep more than one member of their family on wheels. Gas is just too expensive, and I know for a fact that my Jeep was on the upper end of the hundred thousand dollar mark. Sometimes, rich parents spoil their kids with lavish gifts just so they'll keep out of their way while they for-close on orphans and kick puppies, but my parents aren't like that. I'm closer to Mom than most of my friends. Like I said, I'm lucky. My parents love me, and they'd go through hell for me. I'd do the same for Mom, Dad, or Leo in the blink of an eye. That is what family really means to me.  
  
I smile into the darkness as the first rays of light peek over the distant horizon. Leo is just a joy to me. You know, I don't even remember when we stopped calling him Ben and switched to Leo. I think Mom was the first to start calling him Leo, since he was born on August 17th. I think she realized that it was a bad idea to name your son of your crazy brother, it has a might just mess a kid up. Again, they think I don't know about Uncle Ben, but if your nice enough to Uncle Zack, who I might see twice a year if I'm lucky, he'll tell you just about anything.  
  
Anyways, back to Leo. I'm nine years older than him, and we don't look anything alike. He looks just like Mom with his curly mop of brown hair that is always a mess no matter what I try. I guess its funny that I take after dad, being the daughter, and he's the son and looks like Mom. I can't tell you the amount of times that Uncle Bling has made a bad joke about that. We don't see Uncle Bling very often anymore, since he married Aunt Jace and adopted little Maxims. Uncle Zack made them move away from us, saying that it was too much of a tactical risk to have two Manticore's and a handful of half-breeds in the same city. I guess he's right, but it doesn't mean I don't miss them.  
  
It's March now, and in a couple of months, I'm going to graduate from high school. I guess you could say I am a pretty decent student. Considering the fact that I don't even try and I have a B average, I'm pretty happy. Of course, Dad knows I'm barely putting in an effort, and that is the only thing he ever gets on my case about. He wants me to be a star student; I think he wanted me to follow in his footsteps to Yale. But I think that he has accepted that that isn't what I want to do. I'm more than happy to go to the University of Washington and get my education degree. I want to be a teacher, but more specifically, I want to teach young deaf children and their family's how to use sign language. That is what I have wanted to do since Leo lost his hearing. I'll always remember the lady who taught me how to sign, Miss Annabelle. She taught Leo how to sign, and me at the same time so he didn't feel as isolated as he might have felt. I am proud to say that I helped Dad learn, because he struggled with it for a while. Of course, Mom had it faster than all of us. All she did was read a book one night, and the next morning she was completely fluent in ASL. I don't know how she even explained that to people, but that's beside the point.  
  
I want to be able to help the little kids who lose there hearing, I know it would scare me to death if I woke up one morning and just couldn't hear, as was pretty much the case with Leo. I'll always remember the morning, I was about 13, I went into say goodbye to him before Dad drove me to school, and he could barely hear me. After weeks and weeks of tests, it was determined that he had a latent neurological condition called Usher's Syndrome*. He would have gone blind, but with the new retina implant technology, we only had to go to Japan to keep him seeing. The cochlear implant is a lot harder to get your hands on, even in the black market. Leo is on every waiting list known to man, but I'm not really worried about it. He's really happy, and you don't need to hear to get spoiled, just like I do. It's easy to say that he does better in school do than I do. He's always reading some book or studying some random specimen on the microscope Mom and Dad gave him last Christmas. Mom threatened to send him to military school next time he brought home a hurt, abandoned animal. He wants to be a doctor, whether it be for his own species or not is as yet undecided.  
  
As the concerto changes over to Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata', I grin. Yeah, these are the times I like best. Just my thoughts, my CD player, and me. That was enough for me. My smile dimmed a moment when I heard the fall of feet against the floor in the next room, Mom and Dad's room. Mom was doing that a lot more lately, pacing at night. I just hoped it wasn't anything that she couldn't handle.  
  
I glanced at the clock on the nightstand, next to the glass of water and my bottle of Tryptophan that I have to take because of mom's seizures. I don't have them like Mom; they want me to take it just as a precaution. It was a little after five thirty now, I could get away with getting out of bed in about fifteen minuets. I curled up under between the warm sheets, closing my eyes for the moment. Knowing Mom, if she was worried, than she'd be checking on me. I spent that last fifteen minuets before I officially 'woke-up' pretending to be asleep, and as usual, pretending to be normal. 


	2. Chapter Two

Chapter Two:  
  
I wiped away the fog that had collected on the mirror during my shower with the palm of my hand, rubbing in a slow circle till I could see my image clearly. I could say I hate how I look, but what's the point in lying? Most of my classmates spend half their time worrying about how they look, panicking over their weight and all the rest of that pointless stuff when I long ago simply accepted the way I am. Whenever I get mad about it, like the times that I wish I wasn't five foot two and had inherited some of Dad's height, I simply blame it on them. Genetics are a tricky thing, aren't they? My hair is a golden brown, like the color of honey, light brown with hints of the gold underneath, a legacy from my childhood. While my hair color is pretty much the same as it was when I was a toddler, nothing else really is. It's is straight as a pin now, which I am thankful for everyday. My hair used to be the unmanageable mop that Leo's is, but while little boys are cute with messy hair, seventeen-year-old girls can't say the same. My eyes used to be Dad's light blue, but now they are gray, almost to the point where they are silver when I get mad. God only knows where that trait came from.   
  
I've always kept my hair around shoulder length or below since I was about twelve. There were always those certain occasions where Mom and Dad would let me play a sport, no matter how brief that time might be, and I'd need to be able to tie my hair back. I guess I keep it that way in more of a wishful thinking sense than anything else; I haven't done anything athletic since my soccer coach mentioned how fast I was to Dad. These days it's about two inches past my shoulders, cut in a straight line with out any layers that are too much of a hassle to deal with should I want to curl it the old fashioned way. Right now, my hair is slicked back off my face, soaking wet from my shower, making my eyes stand out vividly against my pale skin.   
  
I finally stop in the conceit-fest long enough to pull out the bag of makeup from underneath the sink. Like I said, I am perfectly fine with how I look naturally, but why not improve on perfection with a little help from Miss Clinique? I basically put myself on autopilot, because putting make up on is a ritual I have done so many times, I don't need to even think about it anymore. It's just as natural as brushing my teeth. Comb hair, moisturizer, mascara, eye shadow, liner, foundation, powder, lip stick, gloss, towel dry hair, gel, clip, blow dry, spray, and done. Some day's I'll just wear my hair down, but today I've clipped it on top of my head in a messy pile that I wont have to worry about frizzing out in the damp Seattle spring. I admire my artistic talents in the mirror for a moment before I drop my towel into the laundry basket and pull on my robe. I'm a genius, if I do say so myself.   
  
Once my robe is securely knotted around my waist, I step out of the steam bath that the bathroom had become and into the freezing air of the rest of the penthouse. My first instinct is to sprint into my room to get proper clothes on, but my system begging me for caffeine vetoes that one. Caffeine and I have a love/hate relationship. I love soda. I hate coffee. It's lucky I inherited Mom's metabolism because with the way I eat, they'd be taking me out of the house with a crane.   
  
After a short side trip to the fridge, I finally make it back to my room, a cold can of coke in hand. Once I check the alarm clock, it's now six -forty-five, I take a sip of my coke and make my way to the closet. I go to Santa Marianna High School, which is just a kind way of saying 'Rich Kids Go Here High School.' Back five or six years ago, they were still wearing those archaic school uniforms of a plaid skirt and stuff, but thank god that was gone by the time I got there. The day someone tells me exactly what to wear is the day I am convinced that the day that the USA needs to be declared a communism. Of course, there is still a dress code, but since I get to pick what I am wearing, I really don't care. Basically, if the guys are wearing a tie and the girls are wearing a skirt or dress, the principal isn't going to bother you. She's as liberal as they come, which comes in handy when you want a rule changed. I riffle through the neatly organized clothes, grabbing skirts and sweaters off the rack at random and holding them up. If it matches, I'm not going to be too particular. The bright red-above-the-knee-length-skirt and ribbed black sweater and heeled boots were the final decision after a five-minuet debate.   
  
I was completely ready to walk out of the door by quarter after seven, the fifteen minuets it took to throw my oral report of Egyptian architecture included, which left me a half hour to kill before I had to drive Leo to his school and head to mine. Plenty of time to go play with Leo for a while. Leo's room is right down the hallway from mine, the first door after Dad's office, which is the only room in the house that is always locked and we are never allowed to go into. I hardly ever think about what Dad does in there, but sometimes if I am quiet enough at night, and I think hard enough, I can hear him tapping away at a computer. Sometimes he is muttering words under his breath that he'd never say in front of Leo or me. Ever notice how when someone who never swears cusses someone out, it's ten times funnier?   
  
Leo actually has to sleep. This is something I don't know if I should pity or be jealous of. I guess it's a little bit of both, depending on what kind of mood you catch me on. Lately, his love of sleeping has become second only to his love of science and math, and he's been doing quite a bit of it. Even a month or two ago he'd be awake by the time I was ready for school but today, as now usual, he's curled up on his side, his hand fisted next to his cheek. His cheeks are rosy from sleep and if at all possible, his hair is even more disheveled than usual.   
  
Crossing over to his bed, I trip over a pile of books and then have to kick a bucket of some unknown substance out of my way before I can ever get to his bed. God help the woman who ever falls in love with him. She better either have the patience to clean up after this pig, or be just as bad as him and not care. I tap Leo's shoulder, which gets an immediate response. The thing is with Leo, when you even touch his shoulder he automatically looks up at you, because it's his signal that you are trying to talk to him. He flies forward into a sitting position; his eyes clouded over with the deep sleep he'd just came out of in a short amount of time. You knew right the second that he realized the house wasn't on fire or something when he rolled his eyes at me.   
  
I tap my wrist as I begin to sign with much practiced smoothness. 'Time to get up, you've got a half hour before I walk out the door.'  
  
'I'll just get a ride from Mom, then.' Was his answer, but we both knew that was an empty promise. Unlike me, Mom doesn't stop by a store every morning and buy him junk food to take in to eat for lunch. Who needs healthy crap when you can have Cheetos?   
  
Leo reluctantly climbed out from under his blankets, fed his fish and rats, and then pulled out the his school uniform. At Sweetwater School, a school specifically designed for children with either vision or audio disabilities, they were still living in the Stone Age and wearing uniforms. I guess it makes it easier, then, to pick out your clothes in the morning when your only option was dark blue pants and a white dress shirt. Poor kid. When he pulled off his shirt, still signing a mile a minuet about the latest experiment he had going on his desk, I noticed the line of bruises along his side, under his arm. It doesn't matter that he's deaf, he's still like every other eight-year-old boy, and manages to get into trouble wherever he goes. I could ask him what he did to get those particular bruises, but he'd just shrug his shoulders and be embarrassed.   
  
Leo walks over to me with his tie in hand, its something he still hasn't mastered yet. He can explain to you every single chemical reaction that happens in photosynthesis, but he can't tie a necktie. And who says Manticore half-breeds are strange creatures? While my hands are occupied, I go back to talking normally. Leo can read lips, which makes it easier on the people who know him who can't sign, but he's often said to me he rather sign then stare at people's mouths for long periods of time, so I sign as often as possible.   
  
Suddenly, Leo looks up at me, his expression that of a deer caught in headlights. 'What is that smell?' It was then that I also smelled it. I guess it was supposed to smell like eggs, but it had an underlying scent of what could be comparable to human flesh that had been lit on fire. "Oh god." Leo flipped his wrist and expressed exactly what I was thinking with words eight year olds should not be using. Mom was making breakfast. Crap.  
  
'Quick. You've got a science fair meeting this morning." I sign quickly, walking across the room to peek into the hallway. Leo nodded at me. The best way to describe Mom is perverse. Sometimes she'll be the most hands on mom you can possible imagine. She'll be running around, offering to drive us places, do stuff with us, and all that stuff. Then sometimes she'll lock herself in a room for days at a time and not come out. I like to think of those as her black days. She doesn't have them very often, but it always makes all of us sad when she does. But now she's cooking, which is never a good thing. At least Leo and I can escape. I almost feel bad about leaving him alone to deal with *that* on his own. But then I hear the words that send a shiver down my spine. "Maddy! Will you and Leo come out here? I made eggs." I feel bad. Almost.  
  
We walk out into the kitchen together, Dad's already sitting at the table, pretending to not notice the plate of eggs mom sat in front of him. His fault he didn't wake up before her. "Good morning." I say in a bright voice. Mom turns around from the stove, smiling and greeting me, Dad doing the same. Soon as Mom turned her back, Dad shot me a knowing look and gestured towards the plate in front of him. I had to fight back laughter. Not only was it as bad as I thought, it seemed to be much, much worse. That's another great thing about signing. We can make fun of Mom's cooking and have her not know a thing is going on.   
  
"I'm making you two a plate." Mom said. All three of us cringed.   
  
"Oh, sorry Mom." I said apologetically. "Leo's got a science fair meeting, we're running late as it is." Dad narrowed his eyes at Leo and me. Sorry, Dad. Uncle Zack always said that in war, its every man for himself.   
  
"I thought science fair was over with last month." Mom said turning around, spatula still in hand. Oh hell.  
  
'Didn't I tell you? I'm on the planning committee for next year's fair. First meeting's this morning at eight.' Leo is a genius. He's getting major chocolate products for that one.   
  
Mom studied him a moment, as if she was looking for a way to catch us in our little story. I prefer not to refer to it as a lie, I think of it as survival techniques. "Well, you better go then." Thank you, God. "Maddy, will you--"  
  
"I'll get something on the way." I call over my shoulder as Leo and I rush back into our respective room and grabbed our stuff. There was a small window of opportunity here. We had to run like hell if we didn't want to suffer Dad's fate.   
  
Even as Leo and I rushed back into the kitchen, Leo was pulling on his book bag and I was pulling my keys out of my purse. "Bye Dad." I said as I kissed his cheek. I swear he muttered something under his breath. "Bye Mom." I said and kiss her cheek too. "See you tonight." Even as we were walking out the door, our easy escape seemed a little to easy. It wasn't till we stepped into the elevator and Leo pressed the button for the garage that we both finally let out a breath and realized we were home free. Leo was the first to start laughing, then I quickly joined in. We might not have the most normal family, but we certainly had our high points.  
  
  
  
  
  
AN: I forgot to put this on the last chapter. Usher's syndrome is a real syndrome, my sister has it. It is basically the progressive loss and degeneration of auido and visual capabilities. Lovely, isnt it. It's quite rare, and I just used it so I didnt have to research something new. Thanks to Karen and Cat for their help. 


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three:   
  
If there would be one place I give credit to for saving my life, it would be the gas station about a mile away from my school. It may sound slightly melodramatic, but you've never had Mom's waffles. Even before I could drive, the junk food selection they had kept me from starving on those terrible days that Mom decided she would cook. Dad would say to her "Honey, you work to hard. I'll drive Maddy and Leo in today." Then we'd stop on the way to Leo's school and fill up on Tastycakes and chocolate.   
  
Today isn't different. Leo practically dives out of the car before I even come to a complete stop, running inside the gas station in a flash that reminds him how fast he can be when he really wants to be. I pull my keys out of the ignition and set the alarm after I lock the doors. It doesn't matter that we're going to be like five minuets at the most, the black market for cars these days is probably a bigger moneymaker than the entire medical field. I glance at the ominous sky while I push my keys into my purse. The overcast sky looks like its about to break open at any moment, and I didn't bring my umbrella. Damn.   
  
By the time I am inside, Leo grabbing candy bars at random off the shelf. "Hello Madelyn." The man operating the cash register greets me.   
  
"Hello, Mr. Manzarri." I say as I make a beeline for the sodas.   
  
"Your mother cook again today, eh?" He asks me as Leo drops his first pile on the counter. At fifty-six, his Italian accent is as thick as it was when he first moved to America over twenty years ago. You might wonder how I know so much about Mr. Manzarri, and he about us, but like I said, we spend a lot of time here. A liter bottle of coke, two packs of peanut butter M&M's, a king size pack of Kit Kats, a bag of cheese stuffed pretzels, and a package of Oreo cookies should be enough for me. At least till after school.  
  
I take my purchases up to the counter, my heels clacking noisily against the scared linoleum. Mr. Manzarri is practicing his rudimentary sign language on Leo, which always amuses him because of the complete lack of skill he has at it. Still, it's amazing that people in our lives who barely know Leo make the effort to learn how to communicate with him. I know it makes it easier for him in those times he feels like an outsider, it really counteracts those people who act overly nice to him and try to baby him just because he can't here. Mr. Manzarri rings up our purchases and delights Leo with signing "Your total is $22.84." perfectly. I hand him twenty-five and drop my change into whatever random charity jar he has sitting there this week.   
  
That is when I noticed the girl standing behind me in line. She was probably about three inches taller than I was, her black hair cut just above her jaw. It shot up in thousands of corkscrew curls that either was natural or she must have spent hours a day creating them. Her skin was a light olive, her eyes almond shape and green, all signs of a mix of several races that flirted through her family tree. She seemed bored and distracted as she stared out the window, shaking the iced tea she carried in her hand as she waited in line. She looked familiar, and I wracked my brain for her name, Felicity… "Felicia?" I finally remembered. "Felicia Conroy?" God I hope her name was Felicia Conroy, or I was going to feel really stupid.  
  
She looked over at me, her eyes a mix of weariness and apathy, as if she was waiting for a blow that had yet to come. She raised a perfectly arched eyebrow at me. "Yeah?"   
  
"You go to Hillcrest don't you?" She nodded. "I'm Maddy Cale." Recognition bloomed across her face.  
  
"Classical Lit, right? You sit in the back and barely pay attention." Felicia cocked her head to the side. "Am I right?"  
  
I flash her a smile, she had my description down perfectly. "That's me." Leo pulled on the sleeve to my shirt, trying to get my attention. 'Who's that?' He signed.  
  
Felicia look almost startled when she saw Leo sign his question. "What is he…deaf or something?"   
  
People, sometimes, were rude about asking questions, whether they realized they were or not was a toss up. It all depends on their tone of voice of whether or not I have to smack them around. Felicia's question was delivered in an uncomfortable voice, meaning she didn't want to be rude, but she didn't know how else to ask. "Yeah, he's profoundly deaf, but he can read lips, so as long as you don't talk to fast he can understand you." I reassured. Leo tugged on my sleeve again, rolling his eyes impatiently. 'This is F-E-L-I-C-A C-O-N-R-O-Y' We always made up name sign signs for people we came in contact with a lot, but when he met new people I always had to finger spell it to him. I added the sign for school and he nodded.   
  
Leo looked up at Felicia and brought his fingers up to his throat. "Hello." He said politely. His voice was distorted and lethargic, slurring over the word. Felicia smiled down at him. "He's cute." She said to me before turning her attention back to Leo. "Hello." I would never understand why people always felt the urge to talk louder to someone who was reading your lips. It made absolutely no difference other than to make everyone around you stare at you like you were retarded.   
  
Felicia handed Mr. Manzarri the exact change for her iced tea and then glanced outside. "Damn." She swore under her breath. I turned and looked out the window and watched as the first fat drops of rain splattered against the ground. There weren't any other cars parked outside, so I assumed she was walking and now that it was raining, she was going to get soaked.   
  
"Want a ride?" I offered.   
  
Felicia shook her head. "Don't worry about it, I'll be fine."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous." I insist. "As long as you don't mind going by to drop off Leo with me, we're both going to the same place, no reason for you to get wet."  
  
Felicia looked speculative. "You sure you don't mind?"  
  
Leo rolls his eyes, again, sick of the byplay. 'Come on.' He signs as he grabs his bag off the counter. 'I'd like to eat this before I have to go to gym, thank you.'   
  
I smiled and point to the car. "Come on, the prince has spoken."   
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Ahh...more expositionary bullshit to bore the masses. The next chapter is where one of the plots come out, I promise. Bare with me, if you will.  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four:  
  
Tears rolled liberally out of my eyes. I had to lay my head on the steering wheel as I caught my breath. My sides were aching so badly, pain was shooting through my ribs and stomach. I'd never laughed so hard in my life. Felicia was in the passenger seat, her head thrown back against the headrest, her mouth stretched into a huge grin. It had been about two weeks since Felicia and I hooked up at that gas station, and now that we were spending most days after school together, we were having more and more fun together just hanging out and discovering more things we had in common. Today, she was teaching me the ins and outs of prank calls. When she had found out that Dad had given me a scrambled, completely untraceable cell phone, she'd just about had a heart attack. The last one had been so entertaining that I had to pull off the road because I couldn't see, I was laughing so hard. "Lovie!" She'd proclaimed in a terrible imitation of a British accent. "It's me! Gloria, from high school in England!" The worst part had been that the woman that Felicia had randomly called actually did go to high school in England, and also knew someone named Gloria.   
  
It was a Thursday night and in about an hour Felicia had to be home. Unlike me, Felicia had to keep good grades. She was a scholarship student from a middle class family who normally couldn't afford my school's tuition, but as long as she kept a 3.5 GPA or higher, she could attend the school at no cost. If she kept a 4.0 and met several other prerequisites, the school might pay for her college education too. That was what she was hoping for, because her single father couldn't afford to put her into college and raise her three sisters on an assistant producer of the local news on a struggling television station's salary. Felicia's mother, as I had learned, died when she was eight. But after all that, she had a wicked sense of humor and we spent the majority of the time we had together laughing at some prank Felicia had just pulled.  
  
Tonight, I had dropped by the house and found a not from Mom saying that she'd taken Leo to the doctor, and she'd be back later. I called up Felicia and we'd ended up at the Chinese buffet. When I walk into the doors of an all you can eat buffet, the owners shiver in fear.   
  
After we gorged ourselves and driven around for a while torturing the masses with my phone, I dropped Felicia off and headed home. We had tentative plans to go to the mall and shop for a mutual friends birthday that was next week. I also wanted to get home because I was worried about Leo. He'd been really lethargic the past week and Mom was worried enough to keep him home from school and take him to the doctor's today. Doctor's were something our family avoided if at all possible.   
  
When I parked my car, both Mom and Dad's cars were in their spots. I rode the elevator up, quietly humming to myself, a grin still plastered on my face from the fun I had been having. All that ended when I walked in the door.  
  
"Hey! I'm home!" I called, dropping my bag next to the door. I could hear Leo playing with Dad in his bedroom and the sounds of Mom putting away dishes in the kitchen. "Hey Mom…" I trailed off as I saw Mom leaning against the sink, bent over with her face resting in her hands. When she heard me come into the room, she quickly wiped her face and turned back to me.   
  
"Hi honey, how was your night?" She said quickly. Her face was pale, deathly pale, the only color being the red rims of her swollen eyes. The fake smile did nothing to hide her pain.  
  
"Mom? What's the matter? You've been crying." I ask moving to take her hand. Something had to be really wrong for Mom to be crying. Her face crumbled, the fake smile falling away as her eyes overflowed again. She suddenly seemed so old, so fragile.   
  
"Your father and I…" She broke off, taking a deep breath to steady herself. "We took your brother to the doctor today."  
  
My throat suddenly became very tight. It was hard to breath. "Is something wrong with him, Mom?" Mom looked away. "Just tell me!" My voice was starting raise with panic.  
  
"I don't know how to tell you this." Mom sighed brokenly.   
  
I walked to my room, the blood roaring in my ears after Mom was done. It all made sense now, the bruises, how tired Leo had been lately. God…no. I picked up the phone and punched in Felicia's number. When she picked up the phone, I spoke. My voice sounded so detached, like it wasn't really me talking. "Felicia? I'm going to have to cancel on tomorrow night. In fact, I don't think I'll be in school for the next couple of days."  
  
"What? Why?" She asked, surprised.  
  
"My brother…Leo…God." I broke off as he first tear fell from my eye. It would be just the beginning, I knew, before this was over. "They think he has leukemia." 


	5. Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I had Karen help me with some research on leukemia, which is surprising enough since research is a thing I never do. So *most* of this is based on fact, but there are other things that I had to whip out my artistic license and bend to make fit in my plot. So, if it sounds good, believe it, if it doesn't, just smile and nod and move on. (Thanks to Karen for the research help!!)  
  
  
  
Forever Young  
  
Chapter Five  
  
Acute lymphocyte leukemia. While being the most common form of cancer in children, it is also the most treatable. As with most diseases, early detection is the key to proper treatment. The problem is, though the doctors didn't say so, Leo's chances of a complete recovery are slim to none. Still, even when I know all this, it still hasn't set in to me that my brother is dying. My darling little Leo is dying. God.  
  
Mom had first become concerned with Leo's health after he got a nasty cut on his ankle after he sliced it on a piece of glass on the beach. Afterwards, Mom cleaned the cut and bandaged it, but it never seemed to want to heal. So after two weeks, Mom took Leo to our family doctor, and he reassured her that nothing was wrong, the cut was already starting to heal. The cut did heal, and we thought nothing of it. Just like we thought nothing of the mysterious bruises, how Leo seemed to get more and more tired lately, his constant colds and illness…all signs that something was wrong. But none of us noticed. I myself can name several occasions where I should have said something to Mom and Dad that I thought something was up. Problem was I didn't think anything was wrong.   
  
Finally, two months later, Dad became concerned when Leo turned down a trip to a basketball game because he was too tired. Leo would never miss a basketball game, especially a live one, unless they were building a ski lift in hell. Mom made an appointment for the next week, even keeping Leo home from school in case he had something contagious, then took him to the doctor expecting to hear that he had the flu, or at worse, mono. The doctor listen to what Mom had to say ordered x-rays. The doctor took one look at the X-rays and was almost a hundred percent sure that Leo had leukemia.   
  
That first night, after I got back from dropping Felicia off, I was in a daze. Leo didn't have leukemia. Doctors were idiots anyway. What does a family practice doctor know about cancer? Obviously not a whole lot because Leo did not have it. It was just a matter of him going into the hospital in the morning, getting further tests done by a specialist, and then we'd all sit around and laugh at the doctor's mistake. In fact, I wasn't concerned in the least, so I went to school as normal on Friday. What was the point in sitting around at home when there was nothing wrong with him? I kept telling myself over and over again that there was nothing wrong. So while I sat in world history learning about the second Gulf War, the diagnosis was made, acute lymphocyte leukemia, the prognosis was set, not a good one, and my whole world came crumbling down around me.   
  
Still, even after I came home and Mom told me that Leo would be going into surgery to determine how many tumors there were I still didn't want to believe it. It wasn't Mom's quiet weeping or Dad's quiet despair that made me get it. It was walking into Leo's room and having him stare at me with his haunted brown eyes. He understood better than the rest of us. I forced myself not to cry in front of him. He didn't need to be more upset then I'm sure he already was. I sat down on his bed with him and calmly played Monopoly. We played twice that night, the second game with Dad joining us. Then after Leo had drifted off to sleep, I went into my own room, buried my face in my pillow, and cried harder than I ever had in my life.   
  
When we, as a family, sat in the waiting room while they operated on Leo, we tried to remain optimistic. Mom seemed better, she smiled and laughed with Dad over little stories he was telling of Leo's adventures and mishaps. If she thought everything was going to be okay, then it must be. When I was little I thought Mom carried the world on her shoulders. Anything she would tell me I would take as fact with out the slightest hesitation. That day I reverted back to old habit. We had been laughing at a story about Leo bringing home a mouse he'd found on the street and how I'd reacted when Leo brought it into my room to show me when the surgeon stepped out of the operating room. His grim face said all that needed to be said. It was not only bad as bad as they had first expected, it was much worse.   
  
It came down to a bone marrow transplant. They removed as many tumors as they could, but if they didn't replace the leukemia cells with healthy ones; they were just going to come back in a matter of time. According to the pediatric oncologist, blood relatives were the most likely to be compatible donors. Mom and Dad got tested first, and when the results came back that they were both incompatible, I thought Mom was going to be hysterical. Instead, she just sat down in one of the uncomfortable waiting room chairs and stared at the ground. I couldn't decide which was worse to watch. Then they took me back in that little room to test me. I don't even remember what the test was like, what they did, or if it was painful or not. The only thing I do know is that Leo was relying on me to be a match. I sat with my parents and I prayed, and I prayed some more that I would be a match. I was all Leo had left. Most of Dad's relatives not on a speaking basis with dad or they were dead, so there wasn't much hope there. Its not like we can look to Mom's side for help. Her lineage is a joke in itself. For reasons that are beyond me, I wept the entire time we waited for results. When its came back that I also wasn't compatible, that was when I stopped crying. It wasn't that I wasn't sad, I just couldn't, physically couldn't cry anymore.   
  
When my results came back as negative, it was the trigger that my parents needed. I didn't know it at the time, but while I went and sat with Leo, watching a kid's movie that was on TV, Mom and Dad were each on their cell phones making calls. Mom was trying to get a hold of Uncle Zack to see what he knew about any of the other X5s possibly having matching bone marrow. Dad was calling Uncle Sebastian about new treatments of leukemia that hadn't been FDA approved yet and also if it would be possible to acquire bone marrow through the black market. They were sick of sitting still and waiting for the doctors to make all the moves to save their child's life. I have to admire the way they took control of this horrible situation. I just wanted to curl up into a ball and bawl, but they were taking action. I wish I could think it was enough. 


	6. Chapter Six

  
Chapter Six:  
  
I really hate being lied to. I especially hate being lied to by my parents. Of all the people in the world, they should be the ones I can trust the most. I'm sure they think this it is for my own good, or whatever, but this isn't really the time or place to try and protect me.   
  
I slammed the front door shut, heaving my keys across the room with a frustrated growl. My tennis shoes were next, the left one knocking a crystal vase off a low table. It shattered as it hit the floor, but I was beyond caring at that point. My socked feet slid along the floor as I sank down, my back hitting the front door with a thump.   
  
That is the thing about my temper. It would flash boil at one moment, but than cool just as fast. But in that three seconds before I got under control, it was best to lock up anything valuable. After my short lived fit, all that was left was a pile of broken glass, missing car keys, and my ragged breathing filling the total silence of the penthouse. This was the first time that I could remember my house being completely silent. Usually, there was the radio that Mom forgot to turn off, or at the very least one of Leo's pets squeaking. It was almost as if the rats understood that something was wrong.   
  
I still couldn't believe the gall of my parents. I think sometimes they forget that in about three months I was going to be going off to college. They forget that I am almost eighteen years old. Sometimes they forget that I have a working brain cell. Leo is still well enough to be in an outpatient treatment program, so he's usually home by the time I get home from school. Today, on the way home from school, I got a call from Mom saying that they wouldn't be home till late tonight. She made up some lame story, but I saw right through it. They found some black market doctor, and they were taking Leo to him. When I asked Mom for the address so I could meet them there, I was ordered in very clear terms to go home and wait for them there. I wanted to be there for Leo, but my parents took away even the option from me. I had these terrible images of Leo in some dark and dingy room, all alone, while some sick, twisted freak poked at him. There had to be some reason this guy was black market.   
  
Rationally, I knew that Mom and Dad wouldn't leave Leo's side, especially not now. I also knew that Dad probably spent hours checking out this doctor, making sure that he was okay. They probably didn't want me being involved in something that was probably very illegal.   
  
I wasn't on the mood to be rational though. My plan, now that I couldn't be a part of the family, was to put on the most comfortable clothes I could find, dig out my hidden stash of double fudge brownie ice cream, and then sulk. Hopefully I'd be over it by the time Leo got back, because he didn't need to come home to the remnants of my temper tantrum.   
  
The broken vase lay glittering on the floor. It was probably symbolic, but I didn't think I wanted to know why.   
  
My anger was spent, but my steps were still jerky and my breaths still shallow. I left the destruction behind me and stepped in my room with the quiet click of my door. Despite it being so late in the spring, it was unseasonably cold. Even in my flannel pants and long sleeved tee shirt, I was still shivering slightly as I walked back into the kitchen.   
  
I unearthed a frozen pizza while I was searching for my ice cream, and after throwing that in the oven, I grabbed the dustpan and broom and then headed back to the living room.   
  
I was kneeling on the floor when I heard it. My body instinctively tensed, barely feeling the prick of pain in my hand from where I laid my hand down on the floor on top of one of the shards of glass. I heard the window in Dad's office close, which meant only one thing.  
  
I wasn't alone anymore.  
  
Son of a bitch! I'm getting robbed. My temper sparked again and my eyes narrowed. Tonight was not the night to screw with Maddy Cale. It really wasn't.   
  
I laid the dustpan on the ground as soundlessly as possible. It obviously wasn't soundlessly enough because I heard the heavy footsteps of the intruder change directions. Now instead of walking away from me, he was walking right towards me. Good.   
  
I sprinted into the kitchen, my socked feet making barely a sound. My mind was completely cold, completely blank, as I grabbed a long, thin bladed knife from the butcher's block. The only sound I could hear was footsteps and the pound of blood echoing in my ears. I tiptoed next to the door, pressing myself tightly against the wall, the knife gripped tightly in my right hand. My hands were shaking, but not in fear, but steely anticipation. Come and get me, I mentally taunted, just try and get me.  
  
As soon as I saw the jean clad leg in the doorway, I shot forward, the knife raised offensively. I heard the quick intake of breath from the intruder, and that was when I realized that there was a long slice down the man's arm. I never even felt the blade go in. I never looked at his face as I raised the knife again. I didn't want to see his face; my only thought was of protecting my house and myself.   
  
It happened in a flash, not more than half a second after I had jumped out from the kitchen. I didn't see the hand grab my raised wrist, but I felt the blinding pain scream up my arm and through my shoulder, exploding in to little spots of white-hot pain behind my eyes. I didn't know my feet had left the ground until I hit the wall, smacking my head on the door jam.   
  
I saw the face of the intruder a moment before my vision went gray. The last thing I heard was Uncle Zack shout my name before I blacked out.   
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter Seven

Forever Young  
  
Chapter 7  
  
"Madelyn! Maddy, god damn it, wake up!" If I wouldn't have been afraid my head was going to fall off, I might have sighed. Uncle Zack and his amazing bedside manner. My first instinct was to fall back into that lovely little blackness. I mean, what point was there in staying conscious when it hurt so much to do so? Everything sounded like a long echo and the throbbing pain that was radiating up and down my entire arm was enough to have tears welling up behind my closed lids. Oblivion wasn't looking that bad right now.   
  
I wasn't all the way conscious, but in the transition, like being groggy after a long sleep. As much as I wanted to keep my eyes closed and ignore everything for a little while, Uncle Zack's voice held something that I had never heard before. Panic.   
  
Opening my eyes halfway, I instinctively slammed them shut again. Even the dim light caused another yet another searing pain to add to the collection. Forcing herself to open them again proved to be a major task, not one she particularly enjoyed, but finally, Uncle Zack's face swam into focus. "I'm awake, I'm awake." I muttered dejectedly. Unless I was mistaken, I just knifed my uncle. If that doesn't get your ass grounded, I don't know what will.   
  
"Okay." He said, supporting my head with his forearm as I slowly blinked the world back into focus. "Okay. Any headache?" Without waiting for an answer he fired a barrage of questions at me. "Dizziness? Nausea? Blurry vision?"  
  
Yes. Yes. Yes. And, um, yes. "No, I'm fine." I lied as I struggled to sit up, clutching my limp arm to my chest protectively.   
  
My head spun and my stomach rolled. Gravity and I weren't getting along to well right now. Sitting up probably wasn't the smartest thing I could have done. Of course, attacking my uncle with a butcher's knife wasn't that slick either. So much for stab first, ask questions later.   
  
Dad and Uncle Zack never did get along. In fact, they hated each other so much that they didn't even bother to pretend otherwise. I think Dad always thought that Uncle Zack would try and take us away. I know Uncle Zack thought, and still thinks, that by staying in one place for so long, the people that are after Mom will find us. I always got the feeling that Uncle Zack saw me as another one of the tactical risks he always spoke of when he came to visit.   
  
What they both don't seem to understand is that they are so much alike, it's eerie. They both would give up their lives to protect Mom, Leo, and I. If they'd quit fighting each other on it, we'd be a hell of a lot safer with them working together.   
  
But none of that mattered now. I can't move my wrist, which means it's probably broken. Which means I'm going to have to go to the hospital. Which means that they'll probably call Mom and Dad, which means he's going to find out what happened, which means I have no chance of trying to hide what happened from them, which means I'm probably going to find out what the word 'apocalypse' meant on a first hand basis.   
  
"Maddy! Are you listening to me?" He'd been talking? Go figure.   
  
"Huh?" Was it the head injury talking? I couldn't seem to focus on one thing for more than three seconds.   
  
"I said I have to splint your arm. I think it's broken." He lifted his arm long enough for me to see a long, jagged, gash down the sleeve of his leather jacket. It was kind of sweet, in the sick sort of way that he was ignoring his own injuries to take care of mine. But then again, it lost the sweetness and just became sick when I realized he was dripping blood all over me.   
  
"No," I say quickly, panicking as he tries to touch my arm. "Let's just go to the hospital, you need stitches." And they had painkillers there. I'd love to have a handful of those right now.   
  
"As soon as I immobilize it, we'll go to the hospital." Uncle Zack promised reassuringly. But as soon as his fingers wrapped around my arm, I instinctively jerked back, jarring my wrist. The short scream I let out echoed through the penthouse. I curled up into a ball, tears running down my face despite my best efforts not to cry.   
  
"What in the hell is going on?!" Dad's voice was enough to have me sitting straight up in the hair. It was also enough to have both Uncle Zack and myself at a complete loss for words. In a situation that already was bad, having your overprotective father walk in wasn't the best thing that could happen. "Um…" I stuttered. "Dad, there was an accident." What an understatement.   
  
It happened before I even had time to react. One second, Uncle Zack was kneeling over me trying his hardest to tend to me, which really did say a lot for him. The next, Dad had hauled him up by the lapels of his jacket and slammed him up against the wall. Its always ten times scarier to witness an attack on someone by a generally non-violent person, like Dad. What was worse is that Dad's face didn't seem to reflect any of the rage that he so obviously felt. He'd ask me how my day at school was with the exact same expression.   
  
No one said a word before Dad pulled back his fist and plowed it into Uncle Zack stomach. Uncle Zack grunted, half doubled over. I made a pathetic little moaning sound. Hey, it would have been a scream if I had the energy. Where was Mom when you needed her? She'd know how to deal with this crap, because I certainly didn't. Barely a second past before Dad moved to hit him again.  
  
I scrambled to my feet, and before I could think of all the reasons I shouldn't, I ducked my head under Dad's tense arm and tried to push him back with my one good arm. It was like trying to move a mountain. "Daddy! Stop it!" I shouted.   
  
"Madelyn, stay out of the way please." He ordered in a deadly quiet voice. He didn't even look at me; his eyes were fixated over my head, presumably on Uncle Zack.   
  
"Maddy, sit down." Uncle Zack agreed.   
  
Oh great. Men and their need to be heroes. So he was just going to take a beating for something that was my fault to begin with. He obviously wasn't going to be able to fight back. In a few minutes he wasn't going to be able to stay standing telling by all the blood that was pooled on the floor.   
  
Fighting dizziness, I managed to use my body weight to knock Dad back a few steps. I wanted to stand between them, to make sure Dad didn't decide to slap Uncle Zack around a little bit more, but my legs betrayed me and I sank to the ground. I didn't remember starting to cry again, but I was.   
  
"Logan, are you done being an ass, so we can take our daughter to the hospital, or do you want to let your knuckles drag around on the floor a little longer?" Did anyone else feel a draft? Oh wait, Mom just walked in. Despite the very cold, very unwelcoming expression on her face, I was so happy to see her. Even holding a sleeping Leo at her hip, she managed to look fully prepared to slap her brother and her husband around equally. Now Dad was going to get wrapped up in this mess I created.   
  
"Mommy," I sob pathetically. I really hate crying. "I'm really sorry, I thought we were getting robbed…." Sniffle sniffle, choke choke. "…And I didn't know it was Uncle Zack…" Blubber blubber, wail wail. "…And it wasn't his fault, because he didn't know it was me…" Sniffle some more, hyperventilate a little bit. "…And I'm really sorry."   
  
"Why do all the women in my life insist on protecting him?" Dad muttered under his breath just loud enough for everyone to hear.   
  
Mom didn't say a word for a moment, just shot a nasty look at Dad and turned on her heel. She walked out of the room and down the hallway, disappearing into Leo's room. Dad continued to shoot pissed off looks at Uncle Zack, who finally just sat down on the floor. I think he was dizzy too. If he's nice, I might share some of my painkillers with him. Probably not, though, because I like them an awful lot.   
  
"Logan." Mom said in a condescending way only a mother could manage. "Leo's asleep. Even though you seem like you've lost basic common sense, I imagine you can handle watching your son." Dad didn't say a word, but the brief flash of anger that flashed over his face was the first sign of emotion that he'd shown since he'd walked in the room. Mom crossed the room and kneeled at my side. "Can you walk, honey, or do you need some help?" She asked, her voice warm and comforting. I swiped the back of my hand across my face, suddenly feeling like I was seven instead of seventeen.   
  
"I'm fine." I said, hating the fact that even my voice sounded childish. Mom helped me unsteadily to my feet, carefully avoiding moving my arm. Instead of helping her brother the same way she helped me, she just glared at him. "Get in the car, Zack." She said, her voice frigid.   
  
Once we were quietly in the elevator, I was leaning against Mom's shoulder for a lack of anything better to hold me up. "Well, Zack, if that doesn't teach you to use the front door, I don't know what will." She said, gesturing to the bloody dishcloths that he was holding against his left arm.   
  
"What would Lydecker say?" Uncle Zack replied, and unless I was hallucinating, which wasn't out of the question, with a sarcastic smile. "I just got knifed by my teenage niece."  
  
It's sad that all my life, Uncle Zack wasn't entirely comfortable around me. Now that I stabbed him, he was almost sounding proud. If I would have known that, I would have grabbed knife last time he paid us a visit. 


	8. Chapter Eight

Since we've lost author's alert, anyone wanting to receive an email notification when I update any of my stories, please email me at princessjaci@hotmail.com and I'll add you to my list.  
  
Special thanks to Cat Carroll (Of the J&J and Gen X6 fame) for all her help tonight in finally writing this chapter. We all owe her for anything I've written.  
  
Thanks for all the reviews. Nothing makes me write faster than knowing people actually want to read it. I apologize for the delay in writing on any of my fics. I just started a new job and along with school and maintaining my social life, my writing has suffered. I'll try to get a chapter of Extra Ordinary out before next week.  
  
I've been wanting to do this for ages, and I finally remembered. I really want to thank afan for all her fabulous reviews. There is nothing I look forward more when posting a chapter then hearing from her. Reviews like hers not only say 'good job', she gives me ideas on how to be better. There is nothing more invaluable than a honest reviewer. So thanks!!  
  
  
  
  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
For the first time in a very long time, I slept long, and I slept hard. I just have gotten like a full eight hours of sleep. Me sleeping eight hours is like anyone else sleeping for sixteen. For about two seconds, I had no idea what would possibly make me sleep. Then I reached up with my right arm to brush my loose hair off of my face when I realized why my arm felt so heavy. Then I spotted the cast on my arm and it all came back to me at once. I wasn't in much pain anymore, luckily, so I was now able to smile and laugh at the whole situation. Things like this only happen in my family.  
  
I slid out of bed slowly, careful not to bump my arm against anything. The apartment was absolutely freezing, so I found a loose sweatshirt in my closet and managed to wiggle into it. It was going to take some getting used to working with one hand. When I stepped out of my room I very nearly tripped over Leo. Just when I was going to yell at him for standing in my doorway like a creepy little zombie, but he smiled one of his charming smiles and I quickly forgot. 'Good Morning!' He signed brightly.  
  
I looked down at my hands, vaguely annoyed by the problems that this cast was going to cause me. "Hey." I said, holding my hands up to signal my lack of signing ability. He stared at the cast blankly. "Wait, do you know anything about last night?" I asked.  
  
Leo shook his head. 'Dad said you were sick.' I can see why Dad wouldn't want to explain the whole thing to Leo, but did he really think that Leo wouldn't notice a big neon blue cast on my arm? "I broke my arm." I said simply. Something on my face told Leo not to question it further.  
  
It wasn't that I didn't want Leo to know. I'd tell him everything he wanted to know about it. But then again, I could hear Dad in the kitchen. That was a good thing. Such a good thing, that all explanations would have to be put on hold till I found out what I could talk him into cooking. It'd been like fourteen hours since I'd eaten and I was getting pretty desperate.  
  
"'Morning Daddy." I said and gave him a kiss on the cheek. I still talked to him since he'd effectively freaked out on Uncle Zack last night and there was no telling what mood he was in. Since Uncle Zack was at the table with all his major appendages attached, I figured Dad wasn't that pissed off anymore. Since Dad looked half asleep himself and only asked me what I wanted to eat, things were getting back to normal.  
  
I sat down across from Uncle Zack. He was faring pretty well for a guy with twenty odd stitches. He didn't have much to say, other than the muttered 'good morning, but that was to be expected. No matter how many times I stabbed him, he was still going to be lovable, antisocial Uncle Zack.  
  
Leo climbed onto a chair next to me and immediately grabbed Uncle Zack's unused spoon. Uncle Zack glanced up surprised when Leo began tapping out a steady rhythm with the spoon against my cast. It was so utterly retarded, something so totally Leo, that after a long moment of consideration, we all burst into laughter. It was just the thing we needed to get rid of that post-assault-with-a-deadly-weapon tension. Leo continued to tap lightly even after Dad turned back to the pancake batter he was quickly stirring and Uncle Zack went back to his toast. For a deaf kid, his skill in keeping a beat was surprising.  
  
Leo's head whipped around when Mom tapped his shoulder. 'Last I checked,' She signed, 'your sister was not a percussion instrument.' Leo put down the spoon, not without rolling his eyes at me.  
  
"It's okay Mom." I continued to look at Leo as I spoke so he knew to read my lips. "If he can find humor in the situation, then I'm not going to deny him that."  
  
"'That's all fine and dandy.'" Mom spoke and signed simultaneously. "'But Leo's got a doctor's appointment in an hour and he's still running around in his nightclothes. He can play with you arm all he likes later, he needs to go get dressed now.'" Leo's face fell and he walked out of the kitchen and past Mom. All of our faces lost the mirth of moments before and now were somber. For a little while, all of us had put the thoughts of Leo's illness on hold to deal with everything else. Then after that was dealt with, it was nice to forget about it all for a while. Sure, it was fake, but having that few minutes of relative peace in the kitchen with the homey scents of Dad's pancakes.  
  
It was silent for several minutes; the only sound being heard in the kitchen was the occasional tap of silver wear against plates. The phone rang and Mom walked into Dad's office to answer it. I don't know why I suddenly relaxed when she was gone. It looked like Uncle Zack did too, because his shoulders instantly sagged.  
  
"How's your arm?" I asked quietly.  
  
Uncle Zack stared at me a moment, considering his answer. "It hurts." He said, his voice cold as ice. "But next time, don't slice. Stab, and then twist the knife. Causes more permanent muscle damage."  
  
"You're lucky I got your arm and not your throat like I was trying for. You were too busy throwing me into a wall to give me another try." I shot back without thinking. I grinned when Uncle Zack's mouth hung open. Obviously, there was more of Mom in me than he expected. Finally, he recovered enough to fight back.  
  
"I wouldn't have thrown you into the wall if you had stabbed me right." Pure evil glinted in Uncle Zack's eyes as he shook his head with mock disappointment. "I thought your mother would have taught you better than that."  
  
I started to laugh before Dad's cool voice interjected. "I'll thank you not to teach my daughter how to kill more efficiently."  
  
"What's the matter, Logan?" Uncle Zack asked innocently. "Afraid that you'll be the one who sneaks in next time?"  
  
"Zack." Mom said disapprovingly from the doorway. "If you're going to make threats against my husband, please wait till the kids are out of the room. Then make them. All this vagueness makes you seem like such a wuss."  
  
It was strange that everything that had been happening in the past couple weeks, Mom picked this situation to regain her sense of humor. Still, it was hysterical seeing the look on Dad and Uncle Zack's face as their individual insults sunk in.  
  
"I really don't think Maddy need to be learning about killing efficiently." Dad muttered under his breath.  
  
"Logan, relax." Mom replied, tapping the phone lightly against her hand. "She's seventeen. Since we don't let her carry a gun, she might as well learn how to do it right." Mom shot me a small smile. "If it hadn't have been Zack, who knows what would have happened last night."  
  
"If it hadn't been me, then Maddy would have been just fine." Uncle Zack interjected in my defense. "Norms have absolutely no pain threshold." He said fixedly.  
  
As amusing as this conversation was, Mom actually looked like she had something to say. The mood changed instantly as Mom's facial expression. "Logan, that was Dr. Willis." Dad's sat his coffee mug down on the counter. Uncle Zack glanced at me, his facial expression just as bewildered as mine. "He wants us there in an hour." Both Dad and Mom's face split into a large, ecstatic smile. So this was good news. "I'm going to go help him finish getting ready." Mom said, the same silly expression on her face as she turned and left the room.  
  
"What was that all about?" I asked Dad as he dumped his coffee down the sink.  
  
"The specialist that we took your brother to yesterday." Dad murmured quietly, his mind obviously in a complete other dimension.  
  
"So." I finally asked, desperate for more information. "This appointment is good how?"  
  
"He did some tests yesterday afternoon and the fact that he wants us back so fast probably means that he's going to be able to treat your brother." Now Uncle Zack was the only one who wasn't about to burst out into song.  
  
"That's great!" I said, jumping up out of my chair and giving Dad a quick hug. "I'm going to go get dressed so I can go with you guys!" I started to make a quick exit so Dad couldn't tell me I wasn't going, but I wasn't quite fast enough.  
  
"You aren't going." Dad said firmly. My face fell and my eyes narrowed.  
  
"Yes. I. Am." I shot back defiantly. "I don't know why you're so insistent on keeping me out of this, but you're being totally irrational. I want to be there for Leo."  
  
"We don't want you--" Dad began, but Mom's sudden scream stopped us all mid- sentence.  
  
Adrenaline pushed me into the hallway in time to see Mom stumble out, clutching Leo's lifeless body in her arms. 


	9. Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
  
  
~*~The lord is my shepherd, I shall not want.~*~  
  
I'd said the prayer thousands of time in the pediatric intensive care unit. All the words intermingled with the words from friends and distant family that stopped by to offer their comfort.  
  
~*~He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; He leadeth me beside the still waters.~*~  
  
When they told us that Leo was in a coma, I took the news in stride. In other words, I stared at the same page of a magazine for several hours in a sort of limbo. I don't remember falling asleep, but I remember waking up, knowing that this was all just a bad dream. A terrible, terrible dream and now that I was awake, it was all over.  
  
~*~He restoreth my soul; He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake.~*~  
  
But I was sitting in the waiting room of the pediatric intensive care unit with a horrible crick in my neck, and my hands shaking my heart hammering in my chest.  
  
~*~ Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I will fear no evil; for thou art with me thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.~*~  
  
Why weren't the doctors doing anything? I mean, they weren't doing *anything*! They were checking his vitals and 'keeping him comfortable' until they got the results from Uncle Zack's blood test back. What the hell was 'keeping him comfortable' supposed to mean, anyway? Did they fluff his pillow in between morphine injections or something? There had to be *something* they could do.  
  
~*~Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; Thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.~*~  
  
Leo died on a Thursday morning. The leukemia had suddenly and inexplicably attacked his brain stem. He never even had a chance after that.  
  
Ironically, about fifteen minutes after my brother went into cardiac arrest, a technician came sprinting down the hallway the word that Uncle Zack was an exact match for Leo's bone marrow.  
  
Too little. Too late.  
  
Fifteen minutes too late.  
  
~*~Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life; and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.~*~  
  
Rain fell in ice cold sheets as the priest read the final prayer over Leo's oak casket. My knuckles were white as I gripped the handle of my umbrella hard enough, it was only a matter of time before something broke.  
  
I stood a good three feet apart from my parents. It made things worse to see Mom's glassy, red rimmed eyes. It wasn't a big secret that she was heavily medicated. It was hard seeing Dad's face, pale and slightly yellow, a mixture of grief and the empty bottle of vodka that was sitting on the counter this morning.  
  
Devastation didn't even begin to cover it.  
  
I don't know what set it off, but I suddenly wanted to scream. I wanted to scream so loud I couldn't hear the priest attempts in justifying Leo's death.  
  
'No!' My mind frantically shouted. 'No! He's only nine! You aren't supposed to die when you're nine!'  
  
I was too cold to think, to cry, to comfort. I was shivering, inside and out, completely frozen in place.  
  
'He's with God now.' I don't give a fuck. I want him to do another experiment with my shampoo and not tell me about it. I want him to make fun of our parents behind their back. I want him home with me. I want him alive.  
  
"He's only nine." I whispered into the rain.  
  
Weakly, I held my left hand up.  
  
'G-O-O-D-BY-E-L-E-O-I-L-O-V-E-Y' I started to fingerspell, but my hands were shaking so bad I couldn't finish.  
  
I couldn't watch anymore. I couldn't watch them put Leo into the ground. I couldn't do it. I couldn't do any of this.  
  
I'd love to believe that Leo was in Heaven, with the angels, playing with all the dead rats and lizards he could find. It was warm, he could hear, he could play all day long without any of the limitations he faced on this Earth.  
  
But all I could see was Leo being put into the cold, wet ground. No warmth, no sound. Only silence. Forever cold. Forever silent. forever young. Forever gone.  
  
Benjamin Leo Cale was only nine.  
  
  
  
~*~Amen. ~*~  
  
  
  
  
  
A/N: Huge, huge, HUGE thanks to Cat Carroll (J&J, Gen X6) and Angela Evans (Fearful Symmetry) for all their help with this chapter. I went through at least three drafts of this chapter before they helped systematically get rid of the ones that wouldn't work.  
  
A/N 2: I've never been one to beg for reviews. But let me just say this. I've written more in this past week then I thought I'd be able in a long time. Only because of all the terrific reviews I've been getting. This story is officially at its halfway point. Make my day and leave a review, please? 


	10. Chapter Ten

Somehow my ½ page flashback turned into this.sighs Oh well. R/R people!! Thanks to all who reviewed. While I'll disagree with the cold hearted bitch remark (Okay, it was my favorite review ever), special thanks to Zanna and afan's great reviews. And there is about 8 chapters left. Don't panic ya'll!  
  
  
  
Chapter Ten  
  
I had always been perfectly happy as the only child. My dad spoiled me beyond belief. It was a rare occasion that there wasn't some present waiting for me when I got home. Mom would tell Dad that if he wasn't careful, he'd turn me into to an intolerable brat. Dad would quietly reply that he had four years to make up for and that always shut Mom up. Still, coming home and running into my room was always one of the most anticipated parts of my day. Finding some small knickknack or trinket nestled safely on my pillow never lost its thrill for me. Everyday it was a surprise if I found something. I never grew used to it at all.  
  
"Maddy." Mom had said to me one rainy afternoon shortly after my eight birthday. Dad was standing next to her and they each had identical grins plastered on their faces. I paused the handheld video game I was playing. "How would you like a new little baby brother or sister?"  
  
I stared at them silently. I was always taught that if you didn't have anything nice to say, you shouldn't say anything at all.  
  
After that, the presents slowly began to stop.  
  
Mom and Dad were so wrapped up in the upcoming addition to our family, that they hardly paid attention to me. At least I felt that way. I know now that it was because Mom was pretty sick and there was a lot of concerns over hers and the unborn baby's health. Back then I didn't know that. And I resented them for it.  
  
One day in early July, I was sitting in my room enjoying the air conditioning, a Nancy Drew, and a glass of grape juice when Dad stuck his head in the room. I pulled off my headphones and stared at him. I didn't talk a whole lot to them then. "Want to go get some ice cream?" He asked.  
  
"Why?" I said suspiciously. I wasn't interested in another 'you'll be a great older sister' speeches, so I was more than a little apprehensive.  
  
Dad shrugged. "It's a Saturday afternoon and none of us have anything better to do. Why not go get ice cream?" I hadn't even been aware that it was a Saturday. During summer vacation, life was just one endless weekend that blended in to one giant Saturday afternoon.  
  
Still, it was hot outside. Even if I pretended not to, I missed how things used to be. I quickly found a piece of paper and marked my place in my book and followed Dad towards the door, hopping on one foot at a time as I pulled on my sandals. "Is Mommy coming?" I asked, putting on my best impression of disinterest.  
  
"Yes she is." I heard her say from behind me. Mom was only in her seventh month then, but she could have easily been compared to a plane or small barge. She also had two speeds. Stop and waddle. It took her a while to get to the door, but eventually we ended up at a small outdoor ice cream parlor in one of the few nice areas left in Seattle.  
  
It was a good day. Mom was happy to be out of bed for the first time in a while and Dad was happy just to see both of us smiling at once. It was just an all around good day. Our ice cream date ended up being extended to a movie, then to dinner afterwards.  
  
Even when we were having such a good time, in the back of my head I was thinking about the upcoming baby and the effect it was going to have on our lives. There wouldn't be any more nights out, just the three of us having a good time. There wouldn't be Mom and Dad standing on either side of me, each holding a hand as we walked down the street.  
  
I didn't care how selfish I seemed. I knew perfectly well that it was just me being an attention hog. But that night when I was laying in bed staring at the ceiling, I wished with every ounce of my being to be the only child again. I didn't want to be an older sister; I didn't want to be the person some little kid looked up to. I wanted to be Daddy's little girl forever.  
  
My wish didn't come true though. The next month, when I got let out of school, I didn't find Dad in the lobby waiting to pick me up. Aunt Cindy was there, instead. I was happy to see her, I loved my godmother dearly, but I knew instantly that the worst day in my entire history was here. Melodrama is the specialty of every eight-year-old girl.  
  
Aunt Cindy stayed at the penthouse that night. I later found out that Mom had a C section and was pretty out of it, so Dad thought it was best that I wait till the morning to come. When I ventured out of my room the next morning, Aunt Cindy was stumbling around the kitchen trying to figure out how to work Dad's cappuccino machine. She muttered incoherently for a couple minutes and I stared at her bemusedly while she attempted to turn it on, so eventually I shoved her into a chair and made us each a mug.  
  
"Do your parents let you drink cappuccino?" She asked.  
  
"Nope." I said with a big grin and took a big sip. "But they're not here."  
  
Aunt Cindy arched a brow. "If you get me in trouble, I'll beat you down like a red headed step child."  
  
Aunt Cindy was what Dad called 'culinarily challenged'. Mom called her 'cookingly retarded'. Not that she as one to talk. So I made her cheesy eggs, bacon, and toast. She mumbled something about ruining her diet, but she ate it just the same. "I have to say, Mads, that you're taking this whole brother thing a lot better than I would be."  
  
My head snapped up, but Aunt Cindy had still been looking down into her plate. "Why's that?" I asked.  
  
"I was one of six. I was the youngest though. If I was nine and my mom would have had another baby, I would not have been happy about it. Not only was I the baby, I was a huge daddy's girl. I would have thrown a fit if anyone tried to take that away from me."  
  
I blinked. In fact, I blinked for a couple minutes straight with out saying a single word. What do you say to that? Could I confide in my aunt the complete anger I felt at my parents? Could I tell her how I felt betrayed, like I wasn't good enough for them, that they needed another child to make up for what I couldn't give them? Wait.  
  
"Brother?" It suddenly hit me.  
  
"Yeah. Sorry, forgot to tell you they called late last night. Your mom had a little boy. Benjamin Leo. Benjamin after one of your mom's brother's, Leo because it's August. Strange if you ask me, but whatever blows up their skirts." Aunt Cindy said softly, watching my face intently. I think there was enough of my mother in me that I managed to keep my face relatively emotionless.  
  
"Okay." Was all I said.  
  
"I'll take you to go see him later on."  
  
I visited with Mom and Dad before they let me see the baby. Dad walked with me down the hall to the nursery. I could say that it was some big epiphany when I saw my new little brother, but it really wasn't. He was wrinkly, red, and he wailed ALL the time. I didn't want him to begin with, but once they brought him home and that thing ruined my normal eight hours of total silence, all I wanted to do was find the 'return to sender' stamp and get rid of it. I refused to call it by name.  
  
One night, 'it' was wailing, and I finally got so sick of listening to it, I climbed out of bed. I didn't want to wake Mom and Dad up, so I resisted the urge to stomp my feet down the hallway, but it was hard. Its not like I slept, but still. Ten PM till 6 AM was my quiet time and hell if this little *thing* was going to mess that up anymore.  
  
I would have grabbed him from his crib, but he was so small, and just because I couldn't stand his existence didn't mean I wanted to hurt him. I was resentful, not hostile. Where I would have thrown myself in the rocking chair, I sat down gently.  
  
"You need to shut up." I said in a low, stern voice. He wasn't red and puffy anymore. As long as you didn't look at him to long, you could almost call him cute. Almost.  
  
I just sat there and frowned at him. Then suddenly, he stopped screaming his lungs out. His face relaxed and there was nothing but his big, watery brown eyes blinking at me owlishly.  
  
That was the epiphany I was looking for.  
  
  
  
Now, nine years later, I find myself an only child again. The desperate wish I made as an eight year old girl came true in the most horrible way possible. Mom was nothing more than a skeleton of herself. It was a surprise if I saw her out of her room. Instead of finding his comfort in sleeping pills, Dad was doing it with alcohol. Uncle Zack disappeared right after the funeral. I didn't expect to hear from him for a while, and honestly, I didn't care. I didn't care about anything.  
  
I didn't want to talk to anyone. I'd lost all interest in anything. I would have graduated in about three weeks, but I doubt I would have the time or the caring to make up my missed work. Friends had called, there were dozens of messages on the machine, but none of us were really interested in answering the phone.  
  
Last night, there was a knock on the door. I had ventured out of my room long enough to take a shower. I didn't even notice that I was in my ratty bathrobe with wet, tangled hair when I answered the door. Felicia took one look at me and I think she knew. Without waiting for an invitation, she stepped into the penthouse, pulled me into a hug. "I'm so sorry, honey." She crooned.  
  
Something about her showing up like, there was only one appropriate reaction. I burst into tears. Everything I had been holding back for the past week ended up on the shoulder of Felicia's denim jacket.  
  
I don't know how I ended up knocking on her front door today. I was lying in bed in the middle of the afternoon, contemplating getting up at all. Then I found myself fully dressed and searching for my car keys under the piles of dirty laundry that had built up in my closet.  
  
I heard the music soon as I got out of my car. I didn't want to intrude if she was having people over, but Felicia did say that if I ever needed anything I knew where to find here. I didn't want to overstep and boundaries, but I needed to get the hell out of that house for a little while.  
  
I rang her doorbell, then shifted my weight from foot to foot as I waited for someone to come to the door. Felicia opened the door midway through a snort of laughter about something someone behind her said. "Oh my god! Maddy!" She said, her face instantly sobering.  
  
"I'm sorry, I know I should have called--" I started backing away from the door, blushing furiously.  
  
"No, no, no." Felicia stepped out on the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. "You're welcome any time, really." Felicia shot a worried glance at the door behind her. "I've got some friends from my old school over right now."  
  
"Oh." I said, forcing a smile on my face. "It's okay, I should have called first." I took another step back before she grabbed my arm.  
  
"No, I'm just saying." She began carefully. "These people aren't your usual crowd."  
  
"I just needed to get out for a while, its okay, I'll just go shopping or something." I said. Actually, I thought sleeping was looking pretty good again, but I didn't want to make her feel guilty for not wanting her depressed rich friend around.  
  
I started to pull away, but was yanked back again. "Don't be ridiculous, Mad, I just wanted to warn you." Felicia grinned at me and pulled open the door. Immediately I was assaulted with the sound of loud rap music, the reek of alcohol, and choking smoke. "I was going to invite you, but then." She shrugged.  
  
"Okay." I said for a lack of anything else to do. Everyone had stopped what they were doing to stare at me. At least I thought they were.  
  
"HEY!!" Felicia shouted with enough authority to have everyone shut up and listen. "This is Maddy! She's my friend. Be nice!" She ordered.  
  
And with that she disappeared into one of the side rooms. I was left alone to fend for myself.  
  
Oh crap. They didn't know me, I could get away with just turning around and running.  
  
"Hey." A pretty black girl a little younger than me said as she brushed by me. "I'm Maryanne."  
  
I got a half a dozen more greetings as some brave individual grabbed my hand and dragged me deeper into the chaos. Someone pushed a drink into my hand and I had to struggle to hear over the music being blasted directly in my ear.  
  
I certainly wasn't obsessing over Leo at the moment. 


End file.
